Like the sun
by hoshinairi
Summary: This is a little exploratory work on Ichigo/Rukia. "She would tell him this time....tell him that it was time for the both of them to let go of their ghosts and move on, to let go of the love they’d once shared but...there was always a but..."


**A/N: ** Well this is the first story I've ever decided to post. I think it's decent enough to be shared but you'll be the judge of that, ne? Just so you know English isn't my first language so even though I've read it again and again there are most likely mistakes left so sorry for that. Even though the character's names aren't mentioned directly this is a Rukia/Ichigo story. It could also be inserted at any given point in the "future" of the series so I felt it was unimportant to state the "when" exactly. Well if anyone does read this I hope you like it!

**Rating:** R (for mature content although nothing too graphic) You've been warned.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bleach or anything that has to do with it. *sighs* Wish I did though... oh well on to the story.

_**Like the sun**_

She wondered why she could never be angry at him for long. She also wondered how was it that every time they argued they ended up in bed. She'd convinced herself that this time it would end, that the strain of the years and the distance between their worlds had destroyed what remained of him in her heart. That it had been enough, she couldn't live with the longing, the sadness anymore, the uncertainty. She would tell him this time...tell him it was over and done with. Tel him that it was time for the both of them to let go of their ghosts and move on, to let go of the love they'd once shared but...

But then she saw him and the words died on her mouth and she became angry at herself because she knew what they shared was not water under the bridge even if in his absence she could delude herself into thinking it was.

He holds her tight and buries his nose in the crook of her neck taking in her smell. It smelt like home to him. He says "Tadaima Rukia..." and she suddenly loses her cool. She beats at his chest while she screams all the hurtful words she had planned to tell him. She tells him it's over. She tells him she doesn't love him anymore. That there's somebody else in her heart now. Just like she'd rehearsed in her mind over and over through the months she'd been denied his presence. He says nothing and yet he doesn't let her go.

When she quiets down her eyes are blurry and she hates herself again for her weakness. She turns to leave but he holds both her wrists and soon enough she finds herself cornered between him and the wall. She looks up at him unable to resist the pull of his eyes and his mouth hovers over her own, the ghost of a kiss taunts her. A caress that soothes her soul but does nothing but set her skin afire. He kisses her for real this time, a desperate kiss, and her body melds to his, the act born more from her body's memory of his own than from a conscious desire.

He reluctantly parts with her mouth and there's silence as they both try to get some control over their raw emotions. She opens her eyes without even realizing she'd closed them in the first place to find his own still closed. She takes a moment to examine him and a sigh of relief leaves her when she realizes that, whatever happened in the past months, he didn't look too bent out of shape...he was fine, alive and most importantly he was with her again.

He raised his eyes to meet hers and gave her an apologetic smile. She already knew what that smile meant; 'I'm sorry...' She could read it in his eyes. He was sorry he couldn't stay with her long, sorry he couldn't let her go even when she had wanted to be let go of, sorry he couldn't forget her this time either, sorry he'd never relinquish his hold on her heart...

There were no words exchanged between them, none were needed for the other to understand the silent conversation that seemed to have taken place so many times along the years already. His hands caressed her body, passed through places that had ached for him on unbearably lonely nights. He was relearning her body, revisiting the places that she'd allowed no one but him to explore. As clothes became a nuisance and the yearning became almost too painful to bear she thought that he really was like the sun, a passionate and bright fire that spread a wonderful heat through her, a heat that could melt the ice she'd gathered around herself in an attempt to keep the loneliness at bay. A futile attempt to tear him from her heart.

Her breaths came in puffs as he ravaged her body with the longing of one who got a taste of his favorite drink after years of promising he'd never touch another glass...He could taste her and he was eager to erase the bitter taste her absence had left on him. He knew he was being unfair, that her resolve would crumble as soon as he had her in his arms but she was the one thing he would never let go of.

As the passion escalated she thought she'd die from the unbearable heat. It was always like this...months of cold and lonely yearning and one day, unannounced, he'd come through the door and throw her right into the fire without giving her feverish body a chance to warm up first. He held her up against the wall and she held unto him like a lifeline. All pretense was forgotten as their lovemaking took them on a bittersweet journey of remembrance.

He worships her, it's been too long for the both of them. He whispers with everything he has those three words that make her heart swell and she embraces him lovingly as he struggles to gain control over himself once more, slowing their pace, not wanting the moment to end so fast. She feels full of him, of his body, his love, his presence, and she basks in the deliciously slow pace he sets...In the sensual and unhurried way their bodies caress each other, in the hands that remember every little spot that makes her shiver, in the way his mouth reminds her own that she is still alive.

She stretches in a graceful manner and he buries his head once more in the crook of her neck as they tremble in each others arms. Too soon... it was over too soon. She felt despair once again creep into her but everything was forgotten once again, her mind in a haze as his hands found her body once more, rekindling the fire that she'd though sated a moment before. His fingers whispered over her oversensitive skin and she almost protested, it was almost too much, she was _feeling_ too much and feared her heart wouldn't be able to resist it...but the whispers...the sweet nothings his fingers were whispering to her skin won over the desire to put a stop to him. The promise of what was still to come captivated her and she could do naught but give into the sweet temptation. She could never resist, she had never been able to. He really did burn like the sun.

At that moment she wondered what would happen to her if, when that sun escaped her grasp again, she refused to let go of it. Would she burn? Would the ice that threatened to consume her in his absence cease to exist? Would she be forever basked in his ever present radiance?

**A/N:** This isn't my best piece of work but I feel kinda satisfied with it. It's very close to my heart and it's my first Bleach fanfiction. I just wanted to explore some of the emotions I pick up from the tension that seems to surround Rukia and Ichigo at times....I ghess I got a bit carried away with it. Well it's a little fantasy of mine and it's pretty vague because the idea is that whoever reads it can make it his/her own story. I will humbly accept any criticism so if you feel it's worth your time review! And thanks for reading ^-^

I was just reading it again today and had to edit it because of so many mistakes I found...it's not even funny... At least I hope that if there are any mistakes left (which I'm sure there are) at least they are less obvious. *-*


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